


The Road Taken

by eurydice72



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-03
Updated: 2013-07-03
Packaged: 2017-12-17 14:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/pseuds/eurydice72
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur does a favor for his nephew by giving his friend Merlin a ride across the country for the holidays.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Written for chaosmaka for the 2012 glomp_fest. Three things leapt out at me when I saw your prompt - age difference, road trip, and bottom!Arthur. I couldn’t shake them, and this is what happened.

The first time Arthur thought, “What the hell did I get myself into?”, they were somewhere in the middle of nowhere Nevada. Less than a day out. At least two, if not three, days until DC.

An eternity if the past several hours listening to Merlin chatter on about anything and everything was any indication.

But when Morgana had posed the request, he hadn’t been able to say no. He never could when it came to her. Somehow, some way, in spite of common sense that said she was manipulating him each and every single time, Arthur always caved on whatever she asked, whether it was introducing her to his buddy Leon his freshman year at Stanford when he knew Uther would blow a gasket about his daughter dating some long-haired hippie (forget the fact that Leon was the star of the Material Science & Engineering department and knew everything there was to know about every kind of substance known to man ever, Uther only saw what he wanted to), or chasing down the best doctors in the country the night Leon got caught in a fire at work, or pulling strings with some of his European contacts to get her some designer’s phone number so she could seduce the poor rising star into creating a one-of-a-kind dress for her.

This particular request had sounded completely innocuous. Which probably should’ve been his first warning.

_“He’s a friend of Mordred’s.” Her adopted son. As much as she might protest otherwise, Arthur knew she’d pushed for adopting an older child for the sheer pleasure in constantly being told she was too young to have a son that age. “You’d be doing him a huge favor.”_

_“Why can’t he fly?”_

_“Because not everybody has money to burn, you know. He’s at Stanford on scholarship. And you’re driving to DC anyway. What’s the big deal if you’ve got some company for the trip?”_

None, he’d thought, especially when he’d pulled up to the curb in front of Merlin’s apartment building and got pinned by a brilliant set of blue eyes, an engaging smile, and a long, lean body not even the baggy jeans and windbreaker could hide. No other pinning, unfortunately, though the image of what it would be like if the college kid had pushed him to the hood of his Charger, caught both of Arthur’s wrists in one large hand and trapped them over his head, then pounded into his ass like there was no other place his cock wanted to be had kept said-ass glued to the driver’s seat for fear Merlin would see his embarrassing erection trying to split the seams of his Levi’s.

Thank god he could open the trunk from inside. Though Merlin’s “My bag didn’t look _that_ heavy, did it?” annoyed him for a split second.

The rest of the annoyance had settled in by the time they hit I-80.

“I can’t imagine driving all the way to DC on your own,” Merlin commented. “When I came out for school, there were six of us piled into my pal Will’s van. We traded off so nobody got sick of being driver. Don’t you get bored or tired or something?”

“Not really.”

“But it’s three thousand miles.”

“But I can stop and get out whenever I want. I can’t do that on a plane.”

“You’re not stuck in a plane for three days, either.”

Arthur’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I like driving. It relaxes me.”

“You’re not afraid of flying, are you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Because that’s what it sounds like.”

“Well, it’s not.”

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you were,” Merlin went on, as if Arthur hadn’t just denied it twice. “Though honestly, you’re more likely to get in an accident—”

“—driving rather than flying,” Arthur interrupted. “Yeah. I know.” He looked pointedly at his companion for the next three days, hoping he’d take the hint. “I like to drive. End of story.”

Except it wasn’t, or at least not of Merlin’s prattling, because he simply switched subjects, from Arthur to his trip two and a half years earlier (which made him twenty, fuck, young enough to be Arthur’s kid if Arthur hadn’t been paranoid in high school about knocking up Vivian). He heard about their detours, to some amusement part in Ohio he’d never heard of, to the Grand Canyon—which wasn’t so much a detour as it was a whole ‘nother trip, but nothing Arthur said to point that out seemed to sink in for Merlin—as well as proclivities among Merlin’s friends he really wished had been kept private.

The kicker was Merlin’s blasé acknowledgment he was gay.

Regardless of how much Merlin ran his mouth, Arthur didn’t need to know that. He especially didn’t need Merlin talking about his dating life as casually as if they were girls he took home, not boys. Arthur had ignored his bisexual tendencies for years, and then when he’d finally had the nerve to act on them, that asshole Lancelot had stabbed him in the back (except he wasn’t an asshole, not really, not when that sense of decency Arthur had liked about his friend—forget about the bedroom eyes and determination to get Arthur off as hard as possible whether it was a quickie in the closet at work or a whole night at a hotel in Boise during a work thing—was exactly what had driven him and Gwen to go straight to Arthur as soon as they realized their feelings for each other).

Only Morgana knew the truth about the divorce and Arthur’s sexuality, and that was only because she’d called the night that would’ve been his and Gwen’s eleventh wedding anniversary and he was drunk out of his mind already.

A different generation, he tried telling himself. College kids now had more freedoms than he’d ever been allowed at that age. He shouldn’t resent this near-stranger for something that wasn’t his fault.

Except he did, a little, and partially because Arthur knew he was being slightly hypocritical about the closet he couldn’t seem to break free of. He lived in San Francisco, for god’s sake. If there was anywhere on this planet it would be perfectly okay for him to like men, that was it, and yet, he didn’t seek them out. Lancelot had been the only one to break through the walls Arthur had imposed around his sexuality, and that only happened because they’d been friends first.

Merlin had no walls whatsoever, it seemed. And no apparent inclinations to throw any up for Arthur’s sake, either.

He broke just outside Salt Lake City.

The snow had started falling as they were going over the mountains, and though it had cleared passing through Nevada, clouds rolled in to bring an earlier night than usual. Arthur slowed down to keep from losing it on the quickly slicking roads, but Merlin didn’t, his commentary shifting yet again to a white Christmas in DC.

“I’m stopping for the night,” Arthur announced, sliding into the right lane to get off at the next exit.

With a frown, Merlin glanced at the clock on the dash. “I thought you were in a hurry to get there. You can still get in a good four or five hours before you have to stop, can’t you?”

“The snow’s starting to freeze,” he lied. “And I don’t have a scraper or anything.”

“How can you not have an ice scraper?”

“Because I live in San Francisco. Do you know when the last time they got snow?”

“It snowed last year.”

Arthur scowled. “A couple places in the hills got a few flakes. That doesn’t count.”

“It’s still snow.”

“I’m stopping.” Semantics wasn’t going to get in the way of a break. 

He found a Holiday Inn Express near the airport, functional and cheap since Merlin had made it clear he couldn’t afford a room on his own. They agreed to order a pizza, and while Arthur would’ve loved to take a long, hot shower for a few minutes of peace and quiet, that would mean changing into his sleep sweats. In those, he’d never be able to hide an erection that decided it absolutely had to declare he wasn’t as oblivious to Merlin’s physical appeal as he wanted to be.

Settling for leaning against the headboard and flipping through the channels on the TV was his best option while they waited for the food to arrive.

Merlin stretched out on his bed, though he didn’t even pretend interest in what might be on. Propping his head in his hand, he turned toward Arthur, a half-smile slanting his wide mouth. “So what’s your story?”

Judge Judy was yelling at an emaciated teenager for some infraction involving a dog, some beer, and a pair of hair clippers. Somehow, Arthur found the fortitude to keep his eyes on the TV. “A boring one.”

“That’s because you know it already.” When Arthur held his tongue for several long seconds, Merlin sighed and added more softly, “I know about the divorce, if that helps.”

Magic words. They fractured his attention on the TV enough for him to whip his head around and stare hard at Merlin. His stomach was in fluttering knots at the prospect this veritable stranger was privy to his embarrassing history. “What _exactly_ do you think you know?” 

“Nothing specific.” He said it quickly enough to sound genuine. “Mordred just said you got divorced last year. That it was why you hadn’t been back to see your family in so long.”

That and so many other reasons, not the least of which he had no desire to see the disappointment in his father’s face about his failed marriage. On top of that, he knew Uther would use the opportunity to try and coax him into moving back to Washington, in hopes Arthur would marry someone “more suitable” and further Uther’s political aspirations.

Before he’d met Gwen, he would’ve done it. But the one positive thing he’d gained from that relationship was the knowledge he deserved to be happy for his own sake, not for anybody else’s. Nobody, not even Uther, would tell Arthur who he could or could not date.

“I haven’t been back because I have a very busy life,” Arthur said. “That’s all.”

Merlin nodded knowingly. “And you don’t want the family to meet who you’ve been dating. I got it.”

“Hardly.”

“So why were you going to drive alone?”

“Because I’m not dating anyone.”

“But you’re hooking up. You’ve got to be.”

“Oh, god no!” His vehement reaction to the casual reference was tempered by Merlin’s latter statement sinking in. “Wait. Why do you think I have to be?”

Merlin shrugged. “Because I have eyes?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re hardly a troll.” He shook his head and flopped onto his back. “Your ex must have really done a number on you if you can’t even see that.”

The compliment, back-handed as it was, settled Arthur’s fears that his preferences were written across his skin for everyone to see. The last thing he needed when he walked through his father’s front door was a sign on his chest that said, “I’ll bend over if you’re big enough.”

“How do you know Mordred?” He’d much rather listen to Merlin talk about himself than spend the rest of the night fending off personal questions he had no intention of answering.

“From school. We met when we got assigned to the same period for library duty.”

“Aren’t you older than he is?”

Merlin grinned. “Have you even met your nephew? He’s older than anybody else I know. Including you, which should tell you something right there.”

“I’m not that old.” Even though the constant reminders of the age difference between him and Merlin kept slapping him in the face. It was a shame it didn’t do the same to his overeager dick.

As he spoke, Merlin ticked off his list on his fingers. “You don’t date, you don’t hook up, and you haven’t been home in over a year because you’re too busy which means you’ve got to be a workaholic because that’s all that’s left. Face it, Arthur. You have no idea how to have fun anymore.”

Hearing this… _kid_ nail his life so succinctly without really knowing him threw up even more hackles. “I know how to have fun.”

“Really? Prove it.”

“And how do you propose I do that?”

Merlin’s gaze strayed to the windows and the fat flakes sticking to the other side of the glass. “Let’s have a snowball fight.”

Arthur stared at him, disbelieving what he’d just heard. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“We don’t have any gloves.”

“So? Better to pack the snow.”

“Our pizza’s going to be delivered any minute.”

“We’ll do it out front so we can see them pull up.”

He was running out of excuses. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

Merlin smiled, smug and gleeful. “Pretty much.”

The snow fell steady and sure, not nearly heavily enough for his earlier worry but certainly adequate for Merlin’s purpose. Arthur couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent more than a few minutes in the snow, and he definitely couldn’t pinpoint the date of his last snowball fight. Common sense screamed at him to tell Merlin it was a ridiculous idea, that grown men didn’t chase each other like children to prove a point, but then there was this smaller voice, one that had been locked away for over a year, the one that had coaxed him into taking a risk with Lancelot (though maybe that should’ve been a negative right there, considering the results of that decision), that wanted to take Merlin up on this offer. From the look on Merlin’s face, he fully expected Arthur to turn him down.

All the reason he needed to say, “You’re on.”

* * *

He bought a cheap pair of gloves in the hotel’s convenience shop, ignoring Merlin’s gibes about his delicate hands. Nobody noticed as they went out into the parking lot, and though the snow was still coming down, he led Merlin to a patch of lawn, already covered with half an inch.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s lay down some rules.”

Merlin’s brows shot up. “Rules? It’s a snowball fight, not a chess match.”

“You think I’m going to let you make this up as you go along? That’s cheating.”

“It’s not a game. It’s supposed to be fun.”

“Games are fun. And? Games have rules.”

With a roll of his eyes, Merlin folded his arms over his chest. “All right. Let’s hear them.”

He didn’t actually have any in mind, but he couldn’t very well say that now he’d made such a big deal about them. “One. No iceballs. I’m not losing a day because we’re stuck at the hospital getting stitches.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Two. No head shots. Same reason.”

“Do I get to make a rule?”

“Like what?”

“Like calling time outs.”

“Why would we need a time out?”

“In case one of us breaks rule one or two.”

It was Arthur’s turn to roll his eyes. “I think we’re good with just the two.” He began scanning the ground for a thick patch, entwining his fingers to crack his knuckles and loosen up. “But you know, if you decide you—”

A block of cold hit the back of his neck, showering beneath his collar in loose clumps.

“Hey!” When Arthur jerked around, Merlin was six feet away, wearing a shit-eating grin, holding another chunk of unformed snow in his hands. “What was that for?”

Merlin shrugged. “You didn’t make a rule about when we would start. So I started.”

Arthur recognized a gauntlet when he saw it. He backed up, slowly, attention fully on Merlin. Ducking the next throw was easy.

After that, the game was on.

For all his enthusiasm and early luck, Merlin had a lousy arm. His throws often went wide, and as long as Arthur could see him when he released, the way he telegraphed his intentions was all Arthur needed to stay snow-free. His height was a disadvantage, too. A long reach meant nothing when he often tripped over his own feet in his excitement.

Arthur laughed as much from watching Merlin take a fall as he did watching him shake off each of Arthur’s (on the mark) hits. He forgot the cold and the growing ache in his shoulders. When Merlin tried using an Audi for cover, Arthur crept around the long way to pelt him from behind with three balls he’d stashed specifically for a sneak attack.

Neither one of them saw the pizza guy pull into the parking lot until the smell of garlic wafted from the car when he climbed out in front of the lobby.

“Game over!” Arthur called. His breath huffed in front of him as he jogged to intercept the guy, but rather than tired, he felt exhilarated, more so than he could remember being in a long time. He grinned at Merlin when he joined him on the curb. Merlin’s ears were bright red, and the hair on the top of his head was frozen into frost-bitten, irregular spikes where he’d taken a header into a drift after wiping out on an unseen patch of ice. “Ready to concede defeat?”

“Well, I would if you’d ever made up a rule about how to determine the winner. But since you didn’t…” He reached inside his coat and pulled out his wallet, turning toward the pizza guy. “I guess it was just for fun, now wasn’t it?”

Arthur’s buzz took a left turn, as much out of shock that Merlin was paying for their dinner as it was Merlin was exactly right. He’d overlooked that detail, so wrapped up in showing off that he wasn’t a stick in the mud—or ice, as the case may be—and now he couldn’t even claim victory for the privilege.

He hadn’t moved in the time Merlin took to finish, still motionless when the car drove off. Merlin balanced the pizza box in one hand and reached for the door with the other.

“Going to join me?” he asked.

For all his wide-eyed innocence, amusement twisted his mouth into a smile. Arthur scowled and pushed past him, ignoring how he jostled Merlin slightly with his shoulder. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky,” he warned.

“Maybe next time, I won’t let you off so easy.”

Arthur snorted. “Please. Like you ever stood a chance.”

“Do you want a rematch?”

The smell of the pizza had woken up his stomach. “Right now, I want to eat.”

“Then let me know when you’re ready for it.” They reached the elevator, and he nudged Arthur back, his gaze lifted to watch the numbers descend on the display over the doors. His contact held none of Arthur’s belligerence, playful as he’d been outside, and some of the annoyance thawed around Arthur’s mood. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I’ll pay you for my half of the pizza when we get back to the room.”

“I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Then what?”

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Arthur waited for Merlin to reply, but the answer never came.

* * *

The second time Arthur thought, “What the hell did I get myself into?”, he was switching the channel away from sports news when the bathroom door opened and Merlin walked out in a cloud of steam.

With water still dripping from his hair onto his shoulders.

Wearing a towel.

And only a towel.

That did nothing to hide the long line of his cock where it hung against his thigh.

Merlin wasn’t even hard and it had to be at least six inches.

_Oh, fuck me._

“All yours,” Merlin said, flopping down in the chair next to the beds. He reached for the remote that hung uselessly from Arthur’s hand, their fingers grazing as he took it away. 

He didn’t put himself on display or anything, but his indolent sprawl sent Arthur’s imagination into overdrive. What it would be like to crawl between those long legs, push the towel out of the way, and suck Merlin hard. Or straddling his thighs and jerking off their cocks together. Or licking away the last of the dewy moisture from Merlin’s chest and shoulders while he ground against him.

“I thought you wanted the shower?”

Arthur snapped himself out of his daze to find Merlin frowning at him, confused by his immobility. “Just tired,” he said in explanation, and climbed off the other side of the bed, scooping up his clothes and toiletries without looking back. The click of the bathroom door sent a relieved shudder through him, and he sagged against it, growling in frustration under his breath.

He should’ve gotten laid before he’d left San Francisco. None of this would be happening right now if he’d only taken the edge off.

The mirror was still misted over, and Merlin had left a second damp towel wadded up on the floor, but Arthur couldn’t muster the indignation about the mess or being left with only one towel to dry himself. He stripped down, trying everything he could not to touch his throbbing dick, and set the spray to a lukewarm temperature. The residual chill from the snowball fight was enough to deter anything colder. Jerking off would have to suffice.

Bending beneath the water, Arthur braced one hand against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, but as soon as he fisted his cock, images of Merlin flooded his head again. He tried replacing them—with Scarlett Johansson, Ryan Gosling, even the pretty brother from _Supernatural_ —all to no avail. It always came back to Merlin, to that mischievous, knowing glint in his eye, those long hands ready to tease and taunt at the slightest provocation. In the sanctuary of the shower, Arthur could admit to himself that he’d fuck Merlin in a heartbeat, but what he really wanted, what he craved, was for Merlin to pound into him and make him forget anyone else had ever touched him.

A handjob wasn’t going to cut it. Adjusting the angle of the spray, he laid down in the tub and propped his heels against its edge. His cock weighed against his stomach, pre-come dripping onto his skin. He smeared the fluid around the head, digging his thumbnail into the slit for the slight bite that would make his orgasm even better, then reached between his legs to rub his sticky fingers over his hole. 

When he pushed two inside, he sighed in bliss. Every muscle immediately relaxed, and he closed his eyes again to give over to the sensations.

Arthur forgot the cool tub behind his shoulders, as well as the lingering frustrations of his current situation. Each lazy pull at his cock echoed the thrusts into his ass, tight to the edge of pain, long and determined like he best loved to fuck. That was the lesson Lancelot had taught best. Arthur hadn’t been patient at the start, starved (even though he wouldn’t admit it) for everything Lancelot had to offer, but eventually, he learned.

How he preferred being taken for a change. How satisfying it was to play it slow and rough. How good aches could feel the day after, and then the day after that.

That was the role he cast Merlin in now. Where instead of diving into the pizza when they’d come back to the room, Merlin had tossed aside the box, pushed Arthur over the desk, and ground his cock into him until Arthur begged for more. Where he’d taken both of Arthur’s wrists into one hand and pinned them to the small of his back while he’d yanked down Arthur’s jeans. Where—

His orgasm came with a cry, too soon, far too soon, but there was nothing he could do to stop it, nothing he could do but ride it out as his cock jerked inside his grip, ropes of come splattering onto his chest. He left his fingers buried—hell, he hadn’t even got up to three, where was that endurance he’d learned a lifetime ago?—and shuddered through the release, swallowing air until his lungs began to work again.

Too soon, if he was honest with himself.

His breathing evened out, and his arms fell to his sides. Staring up at the ceiling, Arthur became too aware of the cramped tub, and how unsatisfying the orgasm had been, even as quick as it was. The water felt colder than when he’d started.

He sighed.

This was going to be a very long night.

* * *

“Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Something heavy landed on Arthur’s head, or rather, on the pillow covering his head, jarring him from a rather graphic dream involving Merlin, a snowman, and some very obscene carrots. He reached up to brush it off, peering out from beneath the pillowcase to see the hotel directory slide to the floor.

Next to it stood Merlin, holding a rumpled white bag.

“What time is it?” Arthur grumbled.

“Time for breakfast.” Merlin shook the bag. “You looked dead to the world, so I ran out and got us some doughnuts and bagels. I know you want to get back on the road.”

Too much information to process in too short a time. Squinting against the morning brightness, Arthur emerged from beneath his pillow and sniffed. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Yep. I got you black with sugar. That’s the way you like it, right?”

It was, and the fact that Merlin had remembered that after only one Starbucks stop the day before helped soften Arthur’s annoyance at being woken up by having something dropped on his head. Well, that and the promise of a sugar overdose just inches from his nose.

As they ate, Merlin’s chattering didn’t seem to bother him as much as it had before, though Arthur credited that to his fuzzy head and the fact that he probably heard only every fifth word. He was fully alert when they checked out forty minutes later, and even more so when he saw his snow-free car sitting in the parking lot.

“I picked up an ice scraper while I was out, too,” Merlin said. He flipped it toward Arthur, who caught it automatically. “Ready to hit the road?”

Though Merlin talked as much as he did the first day, the morning flew by. Merlin suggested some music when they got on the other side of Salt Lake City, and Arthur spent a couple hours getting an education on what was popular on today’s college campuses. Some of the bands were even good. At Arthur’s request, Merlin started keeping a list of the ones he would look into more once they arrived in DC.

They stopped for lunch at a Burger King in Rawlins, in spite of Merlin’s constant assertions they had plenty of time to try the diner around the corner. 

“We lost a lot of time yesterday,” Arthur said for the eleventh time. “Now that we’re clear of the snow, I want to make up for it.”

Besides, it wasn’t as much torture being stuck in the car for hours at a time with Merlin. When he wasn’t going on about nonsense, or prying too hard into Arthur’s life, he was well-versed in more than a few subjects. Much to his surprise, he discovered Merlin was about to finish his degree in molecular and cellular physiology, which prompted a whole new line of conversation.

“How on earth did you pick that?” he asked. Meaning, really, the subject seemed too intellectual and cerebral for someone like Merlin, though he’d never utter that aloud.

“A friend of the family, actually.” His tone turned wistful, his gaze drifting to the window, leaving Arthur the freedom to steal glances at his tempting profile without fear of being caught. “He was a doctor, not ours officially, because my mom never had decent insurance with all her jobs, but he looked after us all the same. He was always trying to teach me how things worked, how magical science could be if you looked at it from the right angle.”

There was no way to miss the past tense, though the last thing Arthur wanted was to root around in Merlin’s pain and make him feel worse about it. “So it’s a tribute to him, then.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it that. That kind of negates my genuine interest. I mean, I’m not going into medicine like he did. I don’t think I have the patience for it.”

“So what are you going to do with it?”

Merlin turned a brilliant smile in his direction, the slight melancholy gone. “Make the world a better place, of course.”

Arthur couldn’t help but laugh at that. Triteness notwithstanding, he had the sneaking suspicion Merlin meant every word. And would do what it took to make it reality.

“You went to Stanford, right?” Merlin asked. At Arthur’s nod, he added, “Why didn’t you move back to DC when you were done? Did you get some fantastic job offer that was too good to pass up?”

The last question was the perfect out. Embellish the truth, play with the timeline a little—which, all right, was lying—to avoid delving into more personal matters. He could do it. Merlin probably half-expected him to.

But hadn’t expectation been the bane of his existence all along? In every aspect of his life, from his childhood, to college, to Gwen, all the way to Lancelot and the divorce. He’d fought against it last night by agreeing to the snowball fight (which he’d won, no matter how Merlin might claim otherwise). Doing so again wouldn’t kill him.

“Actually, I didn’t find anything for almost a year after graduation. I got by doing some pretty shit jobs until something finally panned out.”

“But your dad—”

“—is the reason I stayed in the Bay Area,” Arthur finished. “I mean, sure, I could’ve found something back in DC. Easy. Everybody there knows who the Pendragons are. But…” He sighed, his grip fidgety on the steering wheel. “I’d spent my whole life like that. I needed to find out if I could succeed on my own.”

He wasn’t sure if Merlin would get it. He had a lifetime of struggles behind him, a mom who worked too hard to provide for her son, scholarships and loans the only way he could get the college education he deserved. If anyone would condemn Arthur for throwing away such riches, Merlin was the guy.

“It’s hard living in a shadow when you deserve better.” The solemnity in Merlin’s tone drew Arthur’s gaze back to him, unafraid now of being seen. “But I can’t say that surprises me.”

“Really?” Arthur shook his head. “Sometimes, it still boggles me, and I’m the one who pretty much flipped off his dad and everything he’d worked for just to prove a point.”

“You think too much.”

That generated a snort. “I’ve been told a lot of things, but that is not one of them.”

“Doesn’t make it less true. Look at all your rules for the snowball fight. I just wanted to have fun. You’re the one who tried turning it into something else.”

“That’s because games have rules.”

“Sounds more like you trying to impose rules on your life to me.”

This was exactly the type of armchair psychoanalysis Arthur had been trying to avoid, especially since Merlin was twisting the one thing he’d thought Merlin would actually approve of into something else entirely. “Forget it. There’s no way you’d understand.”

“Because you think I’m just a kid?”

Though Arthur’s cheeks heated in embarrassment, he didn’t back down. “Because life has a way of not behaving how you expect it to.”

“Life or people?”

Merlin had finally gone too far. Clamping his jaw shut, Arthur punched the volume up on the radio, forcing Merlin to give up the ghost on generating more discussion on this or any other matter. Enough was enough. 

The only words either one of them said before Arthur finally called it a day in Lincoln, Nebraska, were to a McDonald’s cashier when he stopped for dinner and a bathroom. He’d gone over the speed limit. He’d ignored taking breaks. His primary goal was to get them as close to DC as he could, but as he pulled into the Days Inn off 80, he wondered if it had all been worth it. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and guilt was already starting to gnaw at him for overreacting like he did to Merlin’s observations. 

When the night clerk looked at him apologetically and said, “I’m sorry, sir, the only rooms I have left tonight are single queens,” he almost laughed at the irony of it all.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Merlin said as Arthur slid the keycard into the lock. 

He would’ve preferred Merlin’s first direct statement to him to be a joke. He could deal with that better than this quiet deference.

“I’m not that big of an asshole.” _I hope._ He dropped his overnight bag to the floor and rolled his neck. “Are you going to shower?”

“Nah, I’ll do it in the morning.”

With no more excuses, they prepared for bed in silence, walking around each other like an old married couple and this had been their routine for two years rather than two days. Last night, he’d found it impossible to stop thinking about Merlin’s body after they’d killed the lights, but embarrassment had a way of killing a boner. Even when they had climbed gingerly under the blankets, and the darkness was there to invite him back into fantasies, Arthur spurned his wayward thoughts.

“If it means anything…” Merlin wasn’t speaking loudly, but without any light, his soft words weighed heavily in the air. “…I’m sorry about what I said earlier.”

Arthur sighed. “Go to sleep, Merlin.”

“Will we make DC tomorrow?”

As much as he’d like to… “No. The day after.”

“I could drive if you don’t want to stop tomorrow night.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’ve never been in an accident.”

“Have you ever owned a car?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Go to sleep, Merlin.”

The silence returned then, as oppressive as ever. Arthur stared up at the ceiling he couldn’t see, listening to Merlin breathe. He hadn’t noticed it the night before, that steady pulse, hypnotic in ways he’d forgotten in the divorce’s aftermath. For all his fears about not being able to sleep around Merlin before, he’d eventually drifted deeper than he had in months, but whether it was a product of being tired, or jerking off, or a combination of things, he hadn’t known. To be honest, he hadn’t even thought about it. Their morning had started on much better terms and improved enough until their argument for it not to be important.

But the way it relaxed him now, regardless of his rising shame about his behavior, offered a different reason. He’d missed that soundtrack, the gentle knowing that another person was there.

Something else Merlin had provided, albeit unknowingly.

“Merlin?”

The blankets rustled slightly. “Yeah?”

“You’re not asleep.”

“Neither are you.”

“I can’t.”

“I can still sleep on the floor. Just say the word.”

“That’s not it.” He turned his head toward Merlin, seeking out the vague outline against what little light filtered through the curtains. “I owe you an apology, too.”

“I was pushing.”

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed. “But I still owe it to you.”

The mattress shifted beneath his back, and Merlin’s profile changed, the hard angles sloping as he looked to Arthur. “Do-over tomorrow?”

He smiled at the way Merlin phrased it. So typical. “Yeah.”

“Good. Maybe you could share some of your favorite music this time.”

“And you won’t give me crap for it being old man music?”

“Nah.”

“Liar.”

Merlin laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

“The snowball fight was fun, by the way.”

“I know. But having a few rules was a good idea. I might’ve taken advantage of you, otherwise.”

“Ha. Like you ever stood a chance.”

“What, you don’t think I could take advantage of you?”

In the blink of an eye, the renewed camaraderie had deepened to flirtation, the amused promise in Merlin’s tone reawakening those parts of Arthur he’d considered dormant for the evening. He became aware of the heat beneath the blankets, the proximity of supple muscles that held up more than enough against Arthur’s. Merlin’s breath wasn’t the metronome from moments ago. Now it was a drum, insistent throbs that settled beneath Arthur’s skin and demanded satisfaction.

He swallowed against his dry throat. Did Merlin know he was bi? Was this deliberate, or was Arthur’s imagination churning this into something more?

Did he _want_ it to be something more?

Yes and no.

Jesus. No wonder he was a mess. He couldn’t even make up his mind about a potential one-night stand. Or two nights, since they wouldn’t be in DC for another thirty-six hours.

His delay in responding felt interminable. Merlin solved it by nudging Arthur with his elbow.

“Get some sleep,” Merlin said. “If you’re not going to let me drive tomorrow, I don’t want you falling asleep at the wheel and killing me before I get to taste my mom’s apple-raspberry pie again.”

“Better not let that happen.” He’d never been so grateful for a reprieve. Or so disappointed. “You need the calories. You’re all skin and bones.”

Another nudge, this one harder. “Someone’s just jealous because I don’t have to worry about that middle-aged spread yet.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Just like I’m jealous of having to get stamped every time I go into a bar. Oh, wait. I’m not.”

Merlin chuckled. “Good night, Arthur.”

He murmured good night in return, tugging the blanket back over him when Merlin rolled over. The distance did little to dampen the sound of Merlin’s slow breaths.

Sleep came quickly for Arthur.

So did dreams.

* * *

All Arthur knew was heat, warmth surrounding him, head to foot, front to back. His face burrowed into his pillow, while the blankets bunched around his shoulders. A deep sigh escaped him. He could stay like this for hours. Lost in that euphoric darkness between sleep and wakefulness, cocooned in all the ways that made it hard to get up and go to work.

Behind him, the heat shifted. Tighter, closer. Something hard nudged against the back of his thigh, coaxing him to sprawl more loosely.

Though there wasn’t an inch of him that wasn’t covered, Arthur wanted more. One fidget rewarded him with an extra band of heat around his waist. Another brought more weight along his upper back. It pushed him farther into the pillows, into the bed, secure and satisfied.

Sleep faded away.

Cognizance drifted in. Memory of where he was replaced the foggy bliss of his dreams.

The hotel comforter wasn’t that heavy. And didn’t have arms. Or a long, lean leg currently nestled between his.

_Merlin._

A second after Arthur stiffened, so did Merlin. His thigh jerked, pushing against Arthur’s balls with enough force to make Arthur groan.

All the heat disappeared with Merlin’s “Oh, shit.”

Groggy, Arthur rolled over to see Merlin on the other side of the room, yanking his jeans over his hips. Their bagginess did nothing to hide Merlin’s erection. From the glimpse Arthur got, Merlin was as hard as he was. 

“I am so sorry,” Merlin said. “I’m not used to sleeping with someone else in the bed. I never planned on molesting you.”

His mouth twitched. He was too tired to fight the urge to smile. “I would’ve thought molesting involves more groping, less cuddling.”

“I wasn’t cuddling.”

“Really? It felt like that to me.”

“I was asleep. That’s not my fault.”

“And yet, the first thing you did was apologize.” 

Though Merlin had gone a flustered pink, he paused and frowned. “Why aren’t you more upset by this?”

Arthur had no idea, except that it had felt good while it was happening and he wasn’t as oblivious to Merlin’s attraction as Merlin seemed to believe. Both good reasons, so probably, yeah, he had an idea why he wasn’t upset, but he didn’t need to tell Merlin that.

“Do you make a habit of clandestine cuddling?” he asked.

Now, even Merlin’s ears were pink. “Of course not.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He sat up, though he kept the blankets pooled around his waist, hiding his erection. Whether Merlin had felt it while they’d both been lying down, he didn’t know, but he wasn’t going to advertise the fact that he was still turned on as hell. “Forget about it. In fact, if it’ll make you feel better, we’ll call ahead and make a reservation in Toledo for tonight, so we’re guaranteed two beds. That way, if you get any unexpected urges to cuddle again, we’ll both be safe.”

“It wasn’t—” Merlin stopped, clamping his lips together. Smart kid. Arthur was having too much fun teasing him. Arguing would just prolong his agony. Grabbing his jacket, he hunted around for the room key, finally finding it next to the TV. “I’m going to look for some coffee.”

“Happy hunting!” Arthur called after him.

He laughed when Merlin slammed the door behind him.

* * *

The question of why he hadn’t been more bothered by waking up with Merlin wrapped around him niggled at Arthur for the first couple hours on the road. He should’ve been. His walls hadn’t just disappeared, and by all rights, he didn’t really know Merlin. Big, huge klaxons should’ve been ringing at the very first realization this morning.

It helped that Merlin had withdrawn after breakfast, probably using the music Arthur kept streaming as an excuse to shy away from conversation just like Arthur did. He wasn’t rude or cold, but the gregariousness of the past two days had ebbed to more contemplative levels, his questions and comments in the lulls between songs more about the music rather than anything personal.

It was exactly the sort of company Arthur had hoped for when he’d agreed to do this for Morgana. By the time they stopped for a bathroom break and snacks, he was bored out of his mind.

“What did Mordred tell you about my divorce?” he said after they’d hit the highway again.

Merlin paused in mid-chip-chew, frowning at him in confusion. “He didn’t do it to be mean or anything,” he said around the food.

“Oh, I know. I was just wondering how much you know.”

He swallowed, still obviously weighing Arthur’s shift. “Just that you’d been married since after college and that she left you.”

“For someone else.”

He was turning pink again. “Right.”

“And that’s it?”

“There’s more?”

“Yeah. Morgana knows, but I asked her to keep it quiet. I just didn’t know if she actually did.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I know I was prying when I was asking you about your dad.”

“No, I don’t mind.” He took a deep breath. Though his mind was made up, telling someone was tough. The one thing that made it better was knowing Merlin had no vested interest in Arthur. Plus, the truth would set his mind at ease about coming onto a straight guy. “Gwen did cheat on me, but she wasn’t the only one to blame for things breaking up. I cheated first.”

“Oh.”

“With someone I worked with. A guy.”

Merlin’s brows shot up, and his attention zeroed in on Arthur, more alert than he’d been all morning. “Oh?”

“We were friends, actually. Good friends. And…then we were more.”

“So did she cheat because she found out you did?”

“No.” If only it were that simple. “We were starting to feel guilty about what was going on between us. He thought, since Gwen didn’t know I was even interested in men like that, that I should just come clean. He hated that we had to lie about it.” So had Arthur, but maintaining the lie had seemed imperative to not hurting Gwen. It wasn’t her fault he was bi, but she would’ve taken it as a personal failing she hadn’t made him happy. Or so he’d thought, anyway. “We compromised. I introduced them, supposedly to start laying the groundwork for opening up to her.”

“What happened?”

“They hit it off. Really, really, _really_ well.”

“Oh, shit…” Merlin sounded genuinely sorry, which actually made Arthur feel better about his own reactions to the situation. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d been seeking an ally until Merlin inadvertently became one. “That sucks.”

“Pretty much. The kicker, though? They fell in love. Like, more in love I’d ever known two people could be. I was just the catalyst to bring them together.” He was starting to get maudlin. Time to get off the pity train and find a new ride. “That’s all in the past, so, you know, it’s fine. I’ve dealt with it. But I wanted you to know, you don’t have to be knocking yourself out because you think you came onto someone who’s just waiting for the chance to bash your head in for thinking he was gay. I’m not completely straight, so I’m not worried about being turned gay because you were blowing in my ear.”

“I was asleep. I told you that.”

Arthur smiled. “Convenient excuse.”

Merlin didn’t laugh. It would’ve helped, because the longer it took him to respond, the more Arthur began to wish he hadn’t been quite as specific in his explanation. Five miles ticked by. Five long, boring, lost to the world miles.

“Why did you tell me all that?” Merlin asked.

He frowned. “I told you why.”

“You could’ve just said, ‘You’re not the first guy to touch me,’ and dropped it at that.”

“Ha. Right. You would’ve been digging for details before I finished the sentence.”

“But you wouldn’t have had to tell me.”

“And then I would’ve got annoyed because you can’t recognize a sleeping dog when you see one, and we would’ve had a repeat of yesterday, which I don’t think either one of us wanted.”

“And that’s not easier than sharing about your divorce with someone you just met?” Merlin’s gaze was unwavering, his tone as frustratingly sure as it had been every other time he’d prodded Arthur with questions he didn’t like. “You’ve only told your sister, you said.”

“And now I’ve told you. So I guess that doesn’t make me as emotionally stunted as you think it does.”

“What about your rebounds?”

He said it with such certainty, Arthur snorted. “There haven’t been any.”

“It’s been over a year.”

“I told you I don’t date or hook-up.”

“You’re right there, you did.” He pointed a finger only inches from Arthur’s face. “ _That’s_ what makes you emotionally stunted. Which is your phrase, by the way, not mine.”

How did Merlin manage to do this? Every single time, he turned a perfectly fine conversation back on Arthur, forcing him to look at it in a new light whether he wanted to or not. In this case, he especially didn’t want to. This was his life, damn it, and he’d made his choices. Someone who wasn’t even legal to drink didn’t have the right to criticize it.

“That’s what you should give yourself for Christmas,” Merlin announced.

His head was spinning from all the turnarounds. “How on earth did we get from my divorce to Christmas presents?”

“You need a rebound,” he went on. “The longer you go without, the bigger you’re going to build up Gwen and your boyfriend in your head, until there’s no room for anybody else.”

“You’re twenty. What makes you such an expert?”

“Watching my mom get lonelier and lonelier for the last nineteen years since my dad died.” He held Arthur’s eye until Arthur had to break it off. “Look. I think you told me because you know you’re ready to move on. And you’re going to be in DC tomorrow, a place you’ve got a built-in excuse to leave again, so it’s the perfect chance for you to find someone without any strings. Then, when you get back to San Francisco, who knows?”

Who knew, indeed? Arthur hadn’t thought of the upcoming holiday season as an opportunity to break out of his shell. It was supposed to be about family, and catching up, and listening to his dad try to convince him into moving back or running for office or something other than what he was currently doing. But Merlin might have a point. This could be a different kind of vacation entirely.

The choice was his.

* * *

“Two beds.” Merlin dropped his pack onto the one nearest the window and flopped backward onto the heavy quilted comforter. “Just like we ordered.”

“Just like we ordered,” Arthur echoed. They’d made the call after his embarrassing confessional, at Merlin’s reminder of all things. It wasn’t until he’d hung up that Arthur wondered if he’d just failed some test, where he should’ve protested the need and thus laid claim to his bisexuality, once and for all.

His head hurt. He’d been thinking too much all day. He didn’t like it.

“Are you going to shower now or in the morning?” Merlin asked.

“Morning.” If he took one now, he’d just jerk off again. “You?”

“Probably morning.” His eyes shut, his breathing slowing. “Taking one now would require moving.”

“All you did was sit on your ass all day. If anyone should be tired, it’s me. I did all the driving.”

“Which would also require you sitting on your ass all day. So by your logic—”

His argument was choked off by the pillow Arthur threw at his head. With a laugh, Merlin rolled to the side and sat up, tossing the pillow back onto Arthur’s bed.

“Not that it isn’t a fine ass,” Merlin went on. “Which I’m allowed to acknowledge now that flirting is no longer off the table, right?” He grinned. “Of course, that didn’t stop me before, but at least I don’t have to pretend about it.”

The ache behind his eyeballs got in the way of following that wild left turn in the middle of what Merlin said. Arthur opted to concentrate on the latter for the matter of simplicity. “You were flirting with me? When?”

“Pretty much since you picked me up.”

“How did I not know this until now?”

“Trust me, I have no idea. I thought I was being pretty obvious. I kept expecting you to put me into a headlock to make me knock it off.”

Of all the positions he’d imagined them taking, a headlock had never even made the list. “Another way of getting the boring, unfun old man to loosen up, I presume.”

“No.” The smile widened. “Because my ride to DC was hot as fuck.”

No chance of misinterpreting that, headache or no. And if Arthur’s head hadn’t been capable of deciphering it, his cock sure had no problems. Blood was rushing everywhere, not just south, though, and he began fumbling with his overnight case to try and hide his heated face. The control he thought he’d mastered today, of his reaction to Merlin, to the whole situation, vanished at the knees of a single compliment.

“That wasn’t meant to push you away again.” Merlin sounded closer, but when Arthur glanced over, he was still sitting on the bed, leaning back on his hands. His obvious amusement had faded, even that damnable twinkle in his eye that usually convinced Arthur he was mocking him. “Just…well, I was thinking about your rebound person you’re going to find in DC.”

“What makes you think I’m getting one?”

“Because you stopped talking about it. Which meant you were thinking about it. But mostly because you didn’t just tell me that it was the dumbest idea ever and no way were you going through with it.”

How Merlin had learned to read him so well in such a short time, he couldn’t fathom. But there was the nail, and there was Merlin’s observation, and damn if he hadn’t smashed it straight through the head.

“You should’ve been a psych major,” he tried to joke. He pulled out his sweats. A shower was sounding better and better.

“It’s a little late for that.” Merlin cocked his head. “Not too late to be your rebound, though.”

His hand jerked as he reached for his toiletries, scraping the back of it across the zipper on his case. With a hiss of pain, Arthur yanked it to his chest, rubbing at the graze as he stared at Merlin. “You’re not kidding.”

“Nope.”

“And you don’t think it’s weird you just propositioned your friend’s uncle?”

“I don’t think of you like that.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that I am.”

“It also doesn’t mean Mordred ever has to know, either.” Rising, Merlin came around the end of the bed to stand in front of him. He took Arthur’s wrist and turned it around to examine the raw scratch, his thumb soothing its length, back and forth, over and over, as Arthur stood there, frozen. “You’re thinking about this too much, which is why you’re in this mess to begin with. But I can see you don’t hate the idea, and if I’m just as hot to do it as you are, where’s the problem?”

Living in a time zone on the other side of the planet as far as Arthur was concerned. Because his skin crackled at the light touches, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. Breathing was a problem, too, too short, too shallow, like he was a teenager all over again, or maybe a little like the first time with Lancelot.

The memory, as dark as it could’ve been, was chased away by the sudden duck of Merlin’s head and soft, parted lips skimming along Arthur’s. The kiss was tentative, hardly aggressive at all, but the contact thawed both his muscles and his doubts, enough for him to sway closer, for a sound like consent to rumble in his throat.

Merlin’s grip tightened, pressure against his pulse to make it quicken and jump. He nipped at Arthur’s lower lip and chased it with a tease of his tongue, but when Arthur tried to strengthen the caress, he dipped to the side, his smile a taunt against his cheek all the way to his ear.

“Tell me what you like.” He nipped at the lobe, freeing a tremor that ran through Arthur from nape to knee. “Got over a year to make up for here. Let’s do it right.”

Arthur braced against the onslaught of images the husky words evoked. Only one mattered. “Then fuck me.” He didn’t recognize this brazen self. “However you want. I just need you to do it like you need it more than anything else right now.”

“Oh, that part’s not a problem.” His arm snaked around Arthur’s waist, long fingers diving beneath the waistband to unerringly delve along the top of his ass. When Arthur squirmed, it ground their hips together, the thick line of Merlin’s cock more than ample evidence to support his claim. “Anything you don’t like?”

“Yeah. Stopping.”

Merlin laughed, and the world went right.

With the rules laid out (because Arthur wasn’t so far along not to see how Merlin had humored him without ever calling it for what it was), he could touch like he’d imagined since the first night, hands groping to cup Merlin’s cock, mouth tasting the scruff of hair darkening his jaw. Merlin thrust into Arthur’s palm, a pale imitation of pleasures yet to come, and abandoned toying with Arthur’s ass to tug at his shirt. They had to separate to get it off, inches that felt intolerable until he got his hands back on Merlin and it was his tee landing haphazardly on the floor, but then they crashed back together, the slight jolt sparking hungrier kisses, more desperate touches.

He didn’t remember falling to the bed. One minute they pawed at what was left of their clothes, the next they stretched out next to each other with their feet dangling over the end. The difference in their heights was less noticeable this way, not that he cared. What mattered was that Merlin had already proven with the way he’d draped over Arthur the night before that he could cover Arthur how he craved when the time was ripe.

As his head filled with the smell of Merlin’s skin, he silently thanked the decision to wait on showers. Merlin didn’t wear cologne, or aftershave, and if his anti-perspirant had a scent, Arthur couldn’t detect it. What emanated from his body was the musk of sweat and heat, sweetened with the tang of desire Arthur had nearly forgotten about in his abstinence, a mouth-watering concoction that compelled Arthur to lick and taste everywhere he could reach. No nook was safe, no cranny secure. He learned the hard line of Merlin’s clavicle, the softer hollow beneath his Adam’s apple, the tight buds of his nipples with their wisps of dark hair framing the darker flesh.

He took as much as Merlin allowed without sliding to the floor and worshiping the man’s cock then and there. The hold Merlin had on him forbade it.

Funny how Merlin had figured out that about him, too.

When deft fingers opened his fly, his hips thrust automatically into the fresh contact. Merlin chuckled, vibrations that went straight to Arthur’s cock.

“Reflex, or the secret desire to fuck me instead?”

“Not instead.” Arthur allowed a smile to escape. “Too.”

“Someone’s greedy.”

“You were the one who said I had to make up for lost time.”

“So you’re ready to admit I was right and you were wrong?”

“And give you a bigger head than you’ve already got? Please.”

“You’re begging now. It’s about time.”

Before Arthur could manage a comeback to that, his balls were cradled in Merlin’s hand, sizzling away any rational thought. The hiss through his teeth was obliterated by the crush of Merlin’s mouth to his, and he clutched at whatever he could reach to keep the room from spinning away.

Merlin was the first to move, gently nudging Arthur’s legs apart with his knee. He avoided touching Arthur’s cock, all focus still on his sac, but made up for the killer anticipation by stretching fingers to stroke along the skin behind it. 

His hole clenched. Arthur needed nothing else, at least not yet, not until it wasn’t fingers teasing at the outer rim but a thick, blunt head ready to push its way inside.

“God, you’re going to feel so good,” Merlin murmured. He traced the tight muscle, biting at Arthur’s lip until it relaxed and allowed him to press the tip of his finger in. “Tell me you scream, too, and you’ll never get rid of me.”

Arthur was too intent on the slight penetration, the scant inch initiating the first stretch, to dwell on the hint behind Merlin’s words. “You planning on talking as much in bed as you do everywhere else?”

Merlin pushed deeper, and Arthur gave up on holding on to shove clumsily at his jeans. Better to get them out of the way than worry about falling off the bed. “You wouldn’t recognize me if I kept quiet,” Merlin said. He pulled out and yanked the pants off the rest of the way, his palm stroking up Arthur’s flank afterward to fondle his balls again. “You don’t want to forget it’s me here with you, do you?”

The question sounded innocent, but a faint insecurity shaded Merlin’s tone, enough to startle Arthur out of the moment and back onto the man next to him. “No,” he replied in all honesty. “I probably wouldn’t be doing this at all if it wasn’t you.”

Arthur’s assurances did the trick. The twinkle was back, and he slapped Arthur’s hip, the trace of fingers along his buttock too fleeting to be anything but torment. “Roll over.” Merlin did the same, except in the opposite direction, off the bed and bounding toward his discarded pack. “As tempting as it is to make you wait for it, I don’t have the patience for that tonight.”

Arthur was slower to get on his knees, too busy watching Merlin pull out a strip of condoms and a bottle of lube. At some point, Merlin had popped the button on his jeans, exposing the hard tip of his cock, his briefs damp where pre-come had already soaked through. His excitement had been etched in his almost desperate kisses, the way he’d explored more of Arthur’s body without hesitation, but this, this near-nakedness, conveyed such an urgent innocence, it slammed into Arthur’s gut. 

This was just what they both needed. The age difference didn’t matter. Neither did his relative inexperience. This moment, this position, this place…if he believed in fate, he would’ve said everything had led to this.

Maybe he still would.

Merlin came back to the foot of the bed and grabbed Arthur’s thighs. “Scoot back,” he said with a tug.

He ended up with his feet hanging over the edge, his ass in the air. He almost laughed. Yesterday, he would’ve felt foolish like this, open and waiting. Now, he was practically shaking with anticipation.

Dropping onto his forearms, he ducked his head and closed his eyes, waiting for the first cold trickle of lube down his crack. His breath caught when Merlin grasped each cheek, his pulse making up for the lack of air.

Then that stopped, too, when the coarse hair of Merlin’s stubble scraped over his skin.

He tensed, and Merlin’s fingers tightened, spreading him even wider. “Relax,” Merlin said. “You’ll like this.”

Knowing Merlin’s track record so far, he was probably right.

Suspicion confirmed when Merlin dragged his tongue over the opening.

Arthur knew what rimming was. He wasn’t an idiot, and he knew how to look for porn online like any other sex-deprived man. But Lancelot hadn’t been into it, and Arthur had been grateful for what he was actually getting to not even consider asking for anything more. He wouldn’t have thought to ask Merlin for it, either.

But fuck if it didn’t make him wonder how anybody could not want this every second of every day for the rest of his life.

When Merlin licked again, Arthur pushed back, eager to strengthen the contact. His muscles quivered (so glad he’d buried his head in his arms already, they never would’ve lasted otherwise), and he had to gulp for air, but Merlin satisfied his unspoken urges by digging deeper into the hole, the tip of his tongue sinking past the outer ring until his nose was smashed into Arthur’s flesh.

He heard a moan. It might’ve been Merlin’s. No way to know for sure because his body had taken up a mission of its own and was grunting and groaning with every bite and thrust and graze.

The air felt cooler when Merlin pulled back, the effect of both losing the heat of his mouth and gaining the spit-soaked moisture. Merlin ran his fingers up and down the crease, massaging more of the damp into the hole when he passed over it, occasionally letting one slip inside where his tongue had been only moments earlier. Arthur focused on staying relaxed, allowing the gradual stretching to happen, but he was poised for it to just happen at this point, for Merlin to climb on and forget about being Mr. Nice Guy. He’d teased Arthur about begging when he hadn’t really.

That had been before. One more tease, and Arthur’s begging would be reality.

The sound of ripping foil sent a shiver down his spine. Arthur lifted his head in time to see Merlin rolling the condom over the flared head of his cock, the latex thin and tight where he had to stretch it to fit.

“When did you lose the pants?” he asked.

“Obviously when you were too wrapped up in what was going on to notice,” came the glib reply. He stepped closer, lining up their hips, and nestled his hard shaft between Arthur’s cheeks, rubbing up and down over the hole like he had with his tongue. “You ready?”

A mute Arthur nodded.

Merlin dribbled lube over both of them. His aim wasn’t the best. Some of it splattered onto the blanket. Enough dripped down Arthur’s crack and along Merlin’s cock to fulfill the promise Merlin had already made. Nothing stood in the way now.

Arthur exhaled in relief at the initial push against his opening. Then sucked the air back in as the first flare of pain shot through his hips when Merlin met resistance.

Though Arthur didn’t mean to physically react, Merlin froze. “I’ve got you.” Without pushing more inside, Merlin managed to lean forward, falling over Arthur’s back to land on one hand. His other reached around Arthur’s hip and grasped his cock. Lips pressed to Arthur’s nape, soft and warm. “Trust me, Arthur. The last thing I want is for this to hurt.”

Arthur believed him. Closing his eyes helped him concentrate on the heat surrounding his dick, the languid pulls at its length slicked up by the extra lube on Merlin’s hand. It made the ache ebb, but then so did the weight of Merlin against him, that sensation of being secure he’d enjoyed so much when he’d woken up in Merlin’s arms. He breathed in, out, mimicking the same tempo Merlin set along his shaft.

The weight shifted. Merlin eased more of his cock inside, taking his time with each inch to give Arthur what he needed to adjust.

They both sighed when Merlin’s balls brushed against Arthur’s skin.

“Oh, fuck…” Merlin muttered.

Arthur agreed, even if he couldn’t get any words out. It was even better than he’d imagined, his entire body locked into some kind of stasis where the only thing that could move was the heat creeping along every piece of his body, up the back of his neck, along his arms, all the way to his toes and fingertips. 

Minutes passed. Okay, in reality, it was probably only seconds, but they felt like minutes. Long ones. An eternity. Wasn’t that what heaven was?

“One of us is eventually going to have to move.” Merlin’s voice held more than a tinge of laughter.

Arthur smiled, though Merlin couldn’t see it. “You’re the one on top. You do it.”

A slap at his thigh. The sting helped to pull him back from the brink. “Do you think you can stop being so bossy for five seconds?”

“For both our sakes, I sincerely hope you last longer than that.”

“And for that…”

Merlin withdrew, slowly, almost painfully as Arthur’s body fought to keep him exactly where he was. Muscles contracted, clung, some he couldn’t remember ever flexing before, but then Merlin stopped, still several inches inside, and reversed direction.

That was the rhythm they took, slow and shallow, like Merlin was reluctant to completely abandon Arthur. He resumed jerking Arthur’s cock, though not as tight, understanding without being told that it would be game over a hell of a lot sooner than they desired if he kept up his original strength. He had a way of sliding all the way over the head, his palm smearing Arthur’s pre-come around the skin, then using the lubricant to ease his glide back down to Arthur’s balls, that did as much to drive Arthur crazy as his steady thrusts.

Arthur didn’t tell him that. Even though Merlin kept whispering hot encouragement in his ear to just let it all out.

Kisses rained along the back of his shoulders, surprisingly soft where Merlin’s thrusts grew rougher and rougher. Sweat began to soak into Arthur’s hair, and he shuddered when Merlin chased it, collecting and tasting it on lips and tongue. 

“Please…” he heard himself pant. Just that single word, a lone directive, the most he could manage under this—and he suspected many other—circumstance.

And Merlin did it. He gave Arthur what he wanted, needed, understood and did without hesitation or argument.

He stripped Arthur’s cock to match each stroke. Though the pace broke occasionally, it was enough to pull Arthur’s balls tight, his nerves white-hot, the world nearly black. Merlin squeezed beneath the head on the next pull, and Arthur broke, come spilling over fingers, onto skin and blankets, vibrations taking root in the pit of his stomach to unravel him from the inside out. He couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure he wanted to. He trembled again and again, vaguely aware of Merlin slamming one more time hard into his ass.

They both collapsed onto the bed. Merlin buried his face in Arthur’s neck, the hand he’d been bracing himself on skimming down the length of Arthur’s arm to line up until he could entwine their fingers together. His palm was sweaty where it covered Arthur’s knuckles, but then so was the rest of him, binding them together as much as anything else. While Merlin was heavier than he looked, Arthur didn’t push him off. He relished the weight, the heat, the way his muscles felt liquid.

It really must have been too long. He couldn’t remember an orgasm ever leaving him feeling this depleted—and still so, so sated—before.

“Good thing we have two beds,” he said, though the words dragged out of him so slowly, he felt like he was speaking underwater.

The careful caress of Merlin’s thumb against the side of his hand paused. “We had two beds when we started.”

“Yeah.” Somehow, he found the strength to turn his head and skim lips across the nearest patch of skin he could reach. In this case, it turned out to be the bridge of Merlin’s nose, maybe the unsexiest part of him and yet Arthur couldn’t help but smile contentedly. “And now we don’t have to worry about falling asleep on a wet spot.”

Merlin chuckled and resumed his slow massage. “No, I guess we don’t.”

* * *

The third time Arthur thought, “What the hell did I get myself into?”, he woke up without the Merlin blanket he’d fully expected from his night of rebound sex. Nothing weighed over him except the scratchy hem of the blanket, and when he reached to the side (slowly, as not to be noticed, because fuck if he was going to get caught out wondering where Merlin was until he actually knew it), the other pillow was cold.

Something hard landed on the pillow he had over his head. 

“Rise and shine!”

Arthur rolled onto his side to see a tray resting on the other bed, Merlin sitting cross-legged at one end of it as he pulled apart an onion bagel. A carafe of coffee waited to be poured, right next to a covered plate.

“You got breakfast?”

“Room service.” His hair stuck up in dark tufts, almost adorably so. “I’ve seen the way you eat. Someone’s got to take care of you because you sure don’t.”

Though he was still waking up, Arthur smiled.

Maybe he knew what it was, after all.

* * *

“And this’ll be your room.”

Arthur waited until Morgana had opened the door and stepped out of the way before entering and dropping his suitcase by the dresser. The bedroom reeked of Morgana’s style, all careful elegance bordering on just the right side of over the top, with a wide double window that looked out over the back yard.

“Is Father coming for dinner tonight?” The panes were frosting at the edges, broken lace crawling away from the cold. He touched the ice and watched it melt into a finger-shaped blob.

“Tomorrow. I thought you’d want at least one night to relax before the inquisition starts.”

“Thanks.”

“He’s going to ask, you know.”

“I know.”

“And?”

“And what?”

Morgana sighed. “Arthur…”

Shifting to perch on the sill, he mimicked her sigh with a mocking roll of his eyes. She’d been the queen of condescending most of his life, but she’d finally matured enough to have a sense of humor about it. “Morgana…”

“At least tell me you’re happy. If I know that, I can back you up so he doesn’t spoil Christmas for all of us.”

Voices drifted from the hallway, one so familiar Arthur glanced past her automatically in search of it. His ass was still sore from the night with Merlin, compounded by having to sit on it for an additional eight hours as he sped to DC. But for every internal wince he made when it hurt, he knew beyond a doubt he wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

“I’m good,” he said. “Life’s good.”

Merlin appeared in the doorway, though Mordred was nowhere in sight. “I called my mom, Mrs. Gold. She’s working late tonight, so I can stay for dinner.”

“Good, good.” She sneaked a glance at Arthur, a sly smile curving her mouth. “You’ll have to give me the dish on everything my brother did to torture you for the last three days. I need some good blackmail material for the holidays.”

Arthur met Merlin’s amused gaze with his own, turning back to the window as Merlin replied, “I think you’re going to be sorry to hear that I was the one doing most of the torturing.”

“Oh, I doubt that…”

Arthur didn’t hear the rest of Morgana’s questions. Dense snowflakes had started to drift from the sky, getting ready to settle into a new blanket to cover the previous fall already on the ground.

“Hey, Merlin.”

Both Merlin and Morgana stopped in the middle of whatever they’d been talking about, and though Morgana wore a slight frown, Merlin smiled. “Yeah?”

“You owe me a rematch.”

The smile widened. He could definitely get used to that. “And I always repay my debts.”

“No, you don’t. I have the receipts to prove it.”

“Well, this one, I’ll do. Same rules?”

Leave it to Merlin. “Same rules.”

* * *

When Mordred poked his head into the bedroom, his Uncle Arthur was nowhere to be seen. Only Morgana was there, standing at the window. Curious, he joined her, gazing out to see two figures darting around the towering trees in the back yard.

“Is that Uncle Arthur?”

“Looks like it.” Without looking away, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded twenty-dollar bill. “I guess that means you win.”

As Mordred took the money, Arthur crept up behind Merlin and shoved a huge handful of snow down the back of his collar. Merlin flailed in shock, clipping Arthur along the jaw before he could dart away, and the two went down in a heap, a tangle of arms and legs it seemed neither had the desire to immediately extricate from.

“I just knew Merlin would get to him,” he mused. “Merlin gets to everyone.”

But as he watched, Arthur leapt to his feet, holding out his hand to help Merlin to his. Merlin was slower, but slower still was the release of their fingers, knots made between them that stayed secure for Merlin to tug Arthur closer. They kissed, a quick brush of lips, fleeting really, with surreptitious glances at the house from both of them before they separated.

A kiss Merlin instigated.

Apparently, someone could get to Merlin, too.


End file.
